As the sun rose high in the sky, Miss Lith and I glanced at each other with a twinkle in our eyes. We had devoured a sumptuous Italian feast the previous night, indulging in every bite of its rich, heavy flavors. Now, our bodies felt pleasurably full and heavy, and we couldn't wait to empty ourselves onto our slave.
We dragged him into the living room, where he lay flat on his back on the cold floor, his arms stretched out to his sides. It was a nerve-wracking sight—no ropes, no cuffs, just his exposed body and our commanding presence. We ordered him not to move even a millimeter.
I squatted over him first, balancing myself on either side of his head. My ass hovered just above his gaping mouth as I took a deep breath, anticipating the sheer joy of release. I held it for a moment before expelling a thick, hot load straight into his mouth. It was dark brown in color and reeked of our scent, mixed with yesterday's coffee and food. His eyes bugged out in horror as he struggled not to gag or choke on the overwhelming taste and smell.
Miss Lith stood next to me, mirroring my position. She smiled devilishly as she ran her hand down my back. "Good girl, pack him full. I don't want any room left when it's my turn."
Together, we filled his mouth with our foul-smelling, heavy loads. We waited for him to swallow each piece slowly before feeding him more. The room was filled with the sound of his struggling breath, the soft slapping of skin on skin, and the occasional whimper that we instantly punished with the short whip.
Our full service didn't end there. We poured hot champagne down his throat to wash everything down, followed by long strings of saliva from our morning spit. We watched in glee as he struggled to swallow all of it, his face smeared with our filth. Every now and then, one of us would press our foot down hard on his chest or give him a sharp slap across the face just to remind him who was in control.
We knew our laughter was cruel, but we couldn't help ourselves. It echoed through the room, low and triumphant, as we enjoyed every minute of his suffering. It wasn't until he was on the verge of vomiting that we finally relented, allowing him to collapse onto the floor, gasping for breath and clutching his stomach.
As we watched him writhe in pain, we couldn't help but feel a twinge of satisfaction. We were heartless goddesses, and he was nothing more than a human toilet at our disposal. Our bellies were finally light and satisfied, and we couldn't wait to see him beg for more the next time we decided to indulge in a feast—which we knew would be sooner rather than later.
